High tide

The goodbye and speaking of it

words

that

stumble

over

lips

and are slipping away

with the high tide in the swallowing

down the curves of my throat

sentences without a verb

me

you

dear,

but do know

maybe for the last time

even if it was for the first

intensively sensitive

like guitar music or  homesickness

it sings in me like the strings

of friendship

far over the border

it tastes like a song

without understanding the feeling

of silence and still so much

to say that day

and now

remembering it again.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere

10/10/2014